


Plaything

by ubikinon



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Choking, Crying, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Name-Calling, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Sugar Daddy, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, he might be 70 but he can still get it, please suspend your disbelief at the lack of sildenafil involved, thigh riding, this is extremely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubikinon/pseuds/ubikinon
Summary: Having a rock legend as a lover means attending many public events, and missing some of them.





	Plaything

**Author's Note:**

> This is a culmination of several factors such as me seeing [this photo](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcSpi9ePxf_0vQlvVmlYyW-7Au9ejJay0aAEv32c8CGLSGee9OJl) and absolutely Losing It ™, certain stans on twitter dot com insisting that it's wrong to lust after a senior citizen, and Mr. Roger Taylor looking absolutely fantastic at the Golden Globes last week. Enjoy.

You walked out of the bedroom, carefully stepping on your dagger heels to avoid spraining your ankle before you even left the suite. They were brand new, with a price tag you didn't dare look at, a gift from your- well. Your _older_ lover who enjoyed spoiling you. You walked up to the couch where he was sat and stood in front of him, forcing his attention away from his newspaper, and twirled. 

"So, what do you think?"

You posed as he took in the view, starting from the bust of your short dress to your made up face then back down your body clad in form-fitting black, finally landing on your expensive shoes.

"This is the fifth dress you tried on, sweetheart, and you looked lovely in every single one of them," he said, sounding indifferent but eyes never leaving your high heels as he set down his champagne flute on the coffee table. "But I do like these shoes." 

He gestured and you lifted a foot to place it on his knee, holding onto his shoulder with one hand to keep your balance. You watched as his fingers almost tentatively brushed against the jewelled strap of the shoe where it met your ankle, then travelled up your calf, caressing and sending shivers down your spine until his hand rested on the back of your thigh. 

"I'm not sure," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but you knew your nails digging into his shoulder betrayed you. "I think I liked the red gown better." 

He squeezed the flesh under his calloused drummer's hand and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"You are not changing again."

You had been so preoccupied with your own outfit that you hadn't paid any attention to his. Now, looking down from where you stood, you drank in the sight. He was already in his suit, jacket folded neatly next to him. His crisp white shirt had the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, exposing the ink on his strong forearms. His full beard was meticulously combed, moustache curling at the tips in his signature style. The tinted glasses that hid his baby blue eyes gave him an intimidating look, which never failed to get you hot and bothered. You felt a familiar warmth settle low in your stomach. He was so damn handsome.

"But the red one," you insisted in the sultry voice that you knew was enough to drive him crazy. Your deep red lips involuntarily curled into a smirk as you freed yourself from his grasp, planted both knees on his sides and slowly sank onto his lap. "It makes my ass look amazing, don't you think?" Your arms wrapped around his neck and you ground your hips against his as if to make a point. His hands instinctively flew up to your waist but he stopped himself before he could take a hold of you. You could sense him thinking, but it was difficult to judge his mood with his gaze hidden. Several seconds passed with his hands hovering an inch above your waist, and then suddenly he leaned forward to pick up his champagne and newspaper. You watched in confusion as he resumed reading where he had left off before you interrupted.

"We have to leave in half an hour, darling, or we won't make it on time." He took a sip of his champagne and absentmindedly flipped a page, never sparing you a look. "Just pick an outfit so we can be on our way."

You were almost hurt for a second, but then he cleared his throat pointedly and you understood. This was a game. You suppressed your grin with a sigh and buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the dizzying scent of his cologne. You could feel him twitch with every brush of your breath against his skin, as if he was barely keeping himself from putting his hands on you and pulling you close. You leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I just want to look good for you, daddy."

He shuddered and you just knew his eyes fluttered closed behind his glasses. Not waiting for a response, you started placing open mouthed kisses on the sensitive spot behind his ear, down his neck, on his exposed collarbone, leaving crimson stains on his skin and the collar of his shirt. You rocked against his growing bulge, letting an exaggerated moan fall from your lips, watching his jaw clench in return. He flipped another page, turning his head away from you, which you took as an invitation to suck a hickey on his pulse. Emboldened by the low groan that escaped him, you snaked a hand in his white hair. Once again, your lips touched the shell of his ear. "Please daddy, let me be good for you." 

"You have about twenty minutes," was all he said, and this time the moan you failed to bite back was not at all faked. Even with the knowledge that it was just a game, being ignored and degraded this way made you lightheaded with arousal. You shifted in his lap to straddle his thigh and felt yourself soak through your underwear. This was very simple, very tame compared to what you were usually up to in the bedroom; but it was also new, and all your nerve endings were on fire. Suddenly you were blushing, and you let your head fall onto his shoulder in an attempt to hide your face as you pressed down so your core was flush with his thigh. You cursed inwardly for so quickly losing control of the situation - you were quite enjoying seducing him before he effortlessly turned you into putty in his hands. Your hips rolled, desperate for friction, and you gasped as the flimsy lace dragged against your clit. A couple more experimental thrusts and the need for release took over embarrassment, allowing you to look up at him again. His eyes were fixed on the newspaper, suspiciously on the same page still, not paying you any attention. His disregard riled you up, and you reached down under your dress to pull your knickers aside. It was uncomfortable, it was messy and it was humiliating; and you had never been so turned on in your life. Soon your hips were rocking back and forth on his clothed thigh at a steady rhythm as you panted against his stubbled jawline in between wet kisses. 

"Please," you whimpered, though you didn't know exactly what you were begging for. "Please daddy, I'm close." 

He took a sip of his champagne. 

You moaned and wrapped both arms around his neck, grinding faster. The new angle was delicious - with every movement of your hips the fire in your groin burned hotter. You were desperate for his attention, desperate to _win_ whatever this was, so you craned your neck to catch his lips in a searing kiss - only to earn yourself a sharp tug of hair with his hand holding the champagne flute, spilling some of it down your neck.

"I'm busy, slut." 

Your back arched as the cold liquid made contact with your heated skin and the insult he spat out was almost enough to push you over the edge. Your hips stuttered and you let out a wanton moan, only faintly registering the sound of shattering glass before you felt rough hands slide up your dress to grab your bare hips with bruising strength. You fell limp on his chest, holding onto his neck for dear life as he moved your hips back and forth, pushing his thigh up to meet each thrust. 

"Is this what gets you off? Rutting against my leg like the pathetic slut that you are?" You couldn't stop the cries that ripped from your throat as your walls clenched around nothing and your clit throbbed against the rough fabric of his trousers. "That's right, come for daddy."

He didn't let you ride out your climax. Instead, you were being flipped around so your back was pressed against chest, your legs obscenely spread. With a tug he ripped your knickers off your hips - your hazily remembered it was the pair that _he_ picked for you mere weeks ago - and unceremoniously shoved two thick fingers inside your overstimulated pussy. You cried out, instinctively trying to clench your legs shut, but his other hand held you down as his fingers curled in on themselves to brush against just the right spot. "You are being so good," he growled into your ear. "Such a good little slut for daddy. Come on, let me hear you. Moan for me, baby." 

You could hear yourself beg incoherently, but had no control over what you were saying. Your body was torn between flinching away from his touch and arching up into it. Your head fell back on his shoulder, exposing your your neck for him to nip and suck on while he pushed a third finger in. Your body slumped against his, unable to move and completely at his mercy, pitiful sobs falling from your lips as you approached your second high before you could even come down from the first. 

Once it was clear you couldn't move even if you wanted to, he let go of your hip and his hand travelled up, lightly caressing your breasts before pulling your dress down to free them. He leaned forward to take one nipple into his mouth, his moustache tickling your smooth skin, as his free hand pinched and tweaked the other. His gentle mouth was a sharp contrast to his fingers relentlessly pumping in and out of your hole, still twitching from your first orgasm. His tongue flicked over your nipple and he hummed as it hardened between his lips. He teased it with his teeth, eliciting a gasp that interrupted your incessant moans. The sensations were overwhelming. With a loud cry you came for a second time. He kept fucking you with his fingers as you clenched around them, gasping for air, hands reaching back to grab at his hair. 

He finally let you catch your breath once your ecstatic cries turned into soft whimpers pleading him to stop. You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, and through the ringing in your ears heard him groan at the taste of you on his tongue. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, and you melted into it. His hips canted, grinding his clothed erection against your spent pussy, and he grunted at the much needed contact. All you could muster up was a high pitched whine as he kept kissing your face and wrapped his arms around your waist, laying you down on the couch. It was too much - the sigh that fell from his lips when he freed his thick cock from his trousers, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he spread your trembling legs, him rubbing his length against your folds before sliding home in one hard thrust - your skin burned where he touched you and you could not stop the pathetic moans nor the tears that ran down your cheek along with your mascara. You reached out for him but he caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned your arms above your head, other hand wandering up your body until it wrapped around your throat. He slammed his hips against yours, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room and goading him into going faster. 

"Don't move," he gritted out, and let go of your wrists to return his attention to pleasuring you. He started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb as he kept pounding into you, his hand on your throat squeezing and making your vision blur. "You like this, don't you? Being a plaything for daddy. Made to be held down and taken." His cock rammed into your g-spot, making you scream, and your hands flew to grasp at his hips. His hand left your clit, and before you could whine at the loss of contact he was holding your arms down again, leaning over your body to fuck you at a punishing pace. "I said don't move," he growled, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. You couldn't get enough air in your lungs to cry out as shocks of pleasure jolted through you. Your eyes rolled back and your entire body went taut, every muscle violently shaking. Your walls spasmed around his cock and with a low, drawn out groan he was coming inside you. He collapsed, and as you slipped in and out of consciousness it felt like his weight on top of you was the only thing tethering you to this plane of existence. Several minutes passed before you registered the soft kisses on your neck. You hummed and wrapped your weak arms around him, hugging him closer to your body.

"Oh, she's back," he murmured, smiling against your neck. "How are you feeling, love?" 

You huffed a laugh. "Certainly not something I was expecting today."

He pushed himself up to look at you, a slight twinge of guilt noticeable in his tone when he spoke. "I hope I wasn't _too_ rough."

You reached up and carefully removed his sunglasses, revealing the impossible blue behind them. His soft eyes were searching yours for reassurance, and it made your heart leap. You held his face in your hands and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, stroking his beard, caressing his cheeks. "It was incredible, Rog." 

The faint ghost of worry on his face faded into a sly smile. "You look so beautiful like this." He wiped away the tears on your face with his thumb. "All fucked out..." 

Blushing, you pulled him into another kiss just to make him stop running his filthy mouth, then guided his head to your neck where you enjoyed his lips the most. With his tongue he traced the finger shaped bruises that had started to form on your throat, and you sighed, stretching to expose more skin for his ministration. Your eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself staring at the clock. 

"Roger?" 

He hummed in response, and kept lapping at your skin. 

"Roger, I think we're going to be late." 

You heard him chuckle, and couldn't help but giggle yourself. 

"I don't think we're going at all."

**Author's Note:**

> If you told me just a few months ago that I'd be writing reader insert RPF smut in the year of 2019, I would spit in your face. Alas, here we are. Hope you enjoyed it. Also this is my first time writing smut, so feedback is much appreciated. Cheers.


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